


The Room Where It Happened

by CSIGurlie07



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Forced Marriage, Gen, Imprisonment, Mommy Issues, Sorry guys, They presented the perfect opportunity for some parallels btwn Lena and Mon-el, and I didn't, but also you're welcome, but failed to follow through, cuz some people might assume I intended to pair lena with mon-el, no romance this time - Freeform, so here we go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-11-29 21:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11449590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CSIGurlie07/pseuds/CSIGurlie07
Summary: A series of missing scenes exploring what happened to Lena and Mon-el on Rhea's ship in "Resist". Unanswered questions get answers, themes are explored and fleshed out, and honestly I just wanted to see more Lena. Canon-compliant.





	1. Chapter 1

It felt like a nightmare. Lena stared out the window, Rhea’s voice fading to a murmur behind her. Her stomach lurched at the sight of the ground so far below, but it wasn’t the height that made her queasy. It was the flash of alien energy signatures blooming across swaths of city blocks, the quick bursts of weapons fire winking at her from across the city. She had done this.

Now Lena knew why Rhea’s blueprints for the portal were on so large a scale, why Rhea had insisted the portal maintain its dimensions when it would have been far simpler to scale it down for human travel. Lena had been so blind… so willfully ignorant. So entranced by a new project, by the woman who claimed to care for her, who encouraged her.

Lena's head pounded, remembering the moment Rhea had snatched up the touchpad and activated the portal. Supergirl appeared within minutes, but her memory of what followed was hazy. She must have hit her head. She didn't know how she'd gotten to the ship, nor did she have any memory of changing from her previous outfit into the gown she now wore, and the implication turned her stomach.

Rhea’s voice came back into focus, and Lena finally registered the words continuing to issue from the alien queen stalking the room behind her. “Things will be calmer after the marriage, I assure you. There’s no need to worry, Lena.”

Lena turned away from the window, heart hammering in her chest. “Whose marriage?”

“Yours, my dear,” Rhea informed her with a smile. “To my son, Mon-el.”

Panic shot through Lena. Her eyes darted around the room, instinctively seeking an exit. The only door lay behind Rhea. Even if she could reach it, she would have an entire alien ship to contend with, let alone the fact she was thousands of feet above the planet surface. Lena shook her head, the motion nearly a spasm as her panic deepened.

“I’m not marrying anyone,” she declared, struggling to keep her voice firm. Rhea’s patient smile remained in place as she crossed the room towards Lena. She seemed to float across the floor, every step graceful and elegant. Lena took a step back, suddenly feeling very small without shoes, and incredibly vulnerable in the thin gown she wore.

“I meant it when I said you represent the best of your people,” Rhea assured her. “You are kind, and intelligent, and concerned for human life. A marriage between you and my son will bring peace between our peoples. The strife on your streets will end and we can all live in peace.”

Lena swallowed, blinking furiously against the sudden burn of tears. “I trusted you. All this time you’ve been manipulating me, using me to get your fleet here so you can attack my world, and you expect me to join your family? You’re out of your mind!”

Rhea only smiled and walked towards her with arms outstretched. “Lena…”

“Don’t.” Lena recoiled from her, bumping up against the window, trapped. Rhea’s hands gently cupped her arms, rubbing gently even as Lena cringed from her touch.

“I never lied about my affection for you, Lena, or my awe.” Rhea’s fingers left Lena’s arms, lifting to cup her chin, just as she had in the restaurant. Lena flinched, knocking Rhea’s hands away only for her wrists to be caught in an iron grip. Not hard enough to bruise, but impossible to escape.

“Don’t touch me.” Lena squirmed, twisting both wrists to find a way out of the inhuman hands trapping her. Rhea’s features didn’t change, even as Lena struggled to disentangle herself. She continued to smile, eyes crinkled in a parody of warmth. “Let go!”

“As soon as I met you I knew you would make any mother proud,” Rhea continued, ignoring Lena's protests. “As I got to know you better, I hoped that one day I would have the honor. I understand much of this is a shock for you, but I’m sure that in time you will come to see things as I do-- that we can still accomplish great things together, as mother and daughter.”

Lena stilled, slowly registering the way Rhea’s thumbs rubbed comfortingly against her wrists. Her fear abated; in its place, anger took root. Lena lifted her chin, and held Rhea’s gaze as she leaned in, leaving scant inches between them.

“I am _not_ your daughter,” she growled, words dripping with venom. “You make me sick.”

Rhea’s thumbs stopped their circles. Something dark flickered behind the queen’s eyes, and Lena knew she’d struck a nerve. She smirked, and took aim at the lone vulnerability Rhea had shown her.

“I pity your son, for having a mother like you.”

Rhea’s fingers tightened in an instant, grinding the delicate bones in Lena’s wrists together in a crushing grip. Lena gasped sharply at the sudden pain, but kept her gaze locked with the queen's, undaunted. She took dark pleasure in watching a cool mask of regal indifference slide into place, though it wasn't enough to disguise the queen's temper. After a long, calculating moment, Rhea released her, rubbing her palms against the fabric of her gown.

“You must be exhausted.” The queen's voice was as calm and lilting as ever, but now stood at odds with the menace in her eyes. “I’ll leave you to rest.”

Lena pulled her hands close to her chest, rubbing at the sharp pain that quickly dulled to a throb in both wrists. The pounding in her head suddenly amplified, and she let herself sink back against the window, exhausted. Rhea swept from the room, barking a command to the guards posted in the corridor outside. The door slid shut behind her, before Lena could even think about following.


	2. Chapter 2

Mon-el's gaze followed his mother as she draped herself into the waiting throne-- taking the seat on the left, the seat of his father. Her typical seat on the King's right was conspicuously empty. Mon-el glared at it, as though it was the seat's furniture's fault his mother had broken the mourning ritual. He swallowed his instinctive protest. There was more at stake than a throne that was meant to sit empty for the entire grieving annum. 

“And who’s the lucky earthling who won the marry-an-alien-invader sweepstakes?” he asked, drolly inviting the answer Rhea was just itching to share with him.

“Lena Luthor.”

Rhea’s voice lifted lightly across the throne room, chilling Mon-el’s blood in his veins. He’d been shocked to see Lena lying at their feet on the throne room floor when the transporter delivered him and Rhea from the lab. He’d assumed his mother had taken a liking to her, or intended to use the Luthor as a hostage-- he’d never imagined she intended them to marry.

“ _That’s_ why you abducted her?” he ground out.

Rhea scoffed. “I see you have adopted the Kryptonian’s penchant for exaggeration,” she waved off his accusation. “I _rescued_ her.”

Mon-el closed his eyes, knowing that bickering over semantics would only give his mother what she wanted. He swallowed thickly. “Mother, I can’t marry her.”

Rhea’s smile cooled. “Lena Luthor is the best of her kind. She is intelligent, compassionate… She will make an excellent ruler for our people.”

“If it's a leader you need, I will be your prince,” Mon-el countered. “No wedding is necessary--”

“As you promised last time?” Rhea settled in her throne, spreading her skirt carefully. “No, my son, I don’t believe you will keep your word. And the truth is that you have learned little of what it takes to rule.”

Mon-el jerked at the insult. His mother's features abruptly softened at the sight of it. “The fault for that is my own," she confessed, "for not instructing you earlier while we still had Daxam. Nevertheless, it is our new reality. Lena, on the other hand, is a natural leader. Her addition to our family will ease the transition, while you learn.”

Anger flared in the pit of Mon-el’s stomach. His gaze darted around the room, catching on the guards posted at each door, and the technicians monitoring the readouts on the displays. They all gave no indication of having heard, but Mon-el knew better. All of them knew how little his mother thought of him-- that she believed a human could lead Daxam better than he.

“Mother,” Mon-el tried again, pressing his palms together to contain his growing frustration. “Lena Luthor is Kara’s _best friend_!”

“Then I will be doing you and Lena both a favor,” Rhea returned sharply. “That girl poisons all she touches! Just look at you-- I have chosen the worthiest of consorts for you, and your only concern is that it will offend the woman who stole you from me!”

Rhea rose stiffly, striding down the dais steps to gather his hands in hers. Her anger soon evaporated, leaving only a warm smile in its place. “I understand this is a lot of change,” she said smoothly. “You have already been through so much. Like your father, you are a loyal man: you wish to remain faithful. But you have been away from home too long. It is time for you to return and start making decisions for the good of Daxam. And Lena, whether you admit it or not, is the best choice for Daxam.”

“Mother--”

“Give it some time, Mon-el,” Rhea urged, giving his hands a squeeze. “Speak with Lena, get to know her. I promise you will come to love her as much as I do. She truly is remarkable.”

Her voice was gentle, but Mon-el sensed the edge lurking just beneath it. Her gaze bored into him, teetering on the line between prodding him to oblige her wishes and promising ill consequences should he continue to argue. After a long moment, Mon-el swallowed thickly, and turned his gaze aside. As expected, his deference was the response she’d been looking for. Her smile widened, taking on a hint of true joy. She released his hands, beckoning to a pair of guards standing by.

“Escort the prince to his betrothed,” she instructed. As Mon-el was prodded towards the door, his last glimpse of his mother was the sight of her settling happily on his father's throne once more. She didn't give him so much as a second glance.


	3. Chapter 3

The guards led Mon-el several decks above the throne room, to the far side of the ship along a secluded corridor. Each turn took him further from the rest of the sparsely populated ship, and made him feel more and more unsettled. He’d fibbed when he told the DEO he’d never seen this ship before. Every inch of this stateship mimicked the palaces of Daxam, and stepping on board the first time had felt like coming home. Once upon a time, this ship would be crawling with nobles and their retinues. Now the corridors were largely empty, and he had to wonder if it was because most of their people were spread across the rest of the fleet, or if it was because too many had been left on Daxam.

A pervasive chill stole over him, and not just because of the reminder of what he’d lost. The very air was cooler, losing the heat that had kept the throne room and its surrounding areas comfortable. The walls grew plainer, losing the colored drapes that hung the walls behind them. It felt like a prison, and Mon-el realized that was exactly what it was. For him, and for Lena Luthor.

The guards slowed to a stop in front of a nondescript door, flanked by its own pair of guards. At an exchange of nods, the door opened, and a gauntleted hand shoved Mon-el inside. A flash of movement drew his gaze close to the wall where Lena straightened abruptly. She furtively tucked her hands behind her back as Mon-el entered. Lena's eyes darted between him and the guards, who sealed the door behind them without a word. Then her gaze focused solely on him, and her pale features twisted into a mirthless smirk.

“Let me guess...” she deadpanned. “You’re Mon-el.”

Mon-el blinked. “Y-yes.”

"I'm not marrying you."

Lena kept her hands hidden behind her back. Rhea had suggested Lena possessed some kind of regal bearing, but this woman standing in her bare feet with her hair long and tousled around her face gave him the impression of someone freshly woken, not the future queen of Daxam. Though her stance screamed defiance, Lena seemed soft, and vulnerable.

A knot of tension relaxed in his chest, realizing Rhea had embellished-- only for it to be replaced with a new uneasiness. He’d expected a wilting CEO, cowering in a corner, tearfully pleading to be returned to the surface. He’d expected to sit with her, calm her, and assure her that whatever happened, they would survive it. Somewhere along the forced walk that brought him to Lena’s chambers, Mon-el had resigned himself to his fate, that the wedding would happen whether he wanted it to or not. He’d already ceded defeat, but not Lena.

“Yeah? Well-- good.” Mon-el's cheeks heated as he fumbled the retort. He didn’t want to marry her. At all. So… yeah, good. He looked at her, almost shrinking from the sharp green eyes daring him to countermand her. "I don't like this anymore than you... do..."

He trailed off when Lena turned away to face the wall, very clearly uninterested in what he had to say after he’d confirmed himself an unwilling participant. She stabilized herself with one hand against the wall, partially crouching to bring herself eye-level with the lock set into the wall. “What are you doing?"

He moved towards her, until he could peek over her shoulder. She had repurposed a decorative glass flower as a lockpick, using the tightly wrapped wire stem to slide through the narrow opening in the casing and poke at the inner workings of the mechanism.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" she responded sharply. She fiddled with with the lock for several moments. Eventually Lena paused, letting her gaze lift to meet Mon-el's. "I don't suppose you know how these locks work?" 

Mon-el froze, unprepared for the sudden question. "Uhm... no, not exactl--"

"Do you know how to get the internal light on, at least? Right now I'm working blind. I can't even tell what I'm poking at."

"No," Mon-el said again, this time feeling his cheeks flush. She asked him like he _should_ know, and the fact he didn't rubbed against nerves already made raw by his mother's declaration that he wasn't fit to rule.

Lena huffed in exasperation. "Great," she muttered under her breath, shoulders tightening again with irritation.

"Why would I know anything about a stupid lock?" Mon-el snapped, pulling away sharply. "No one stops and wonders 'oh, I wonder how this everyday, nonessential thing works'! It'd be like, like-- wondering how a toaster works! Do _you_ know how a toaster works?"

"Yes."

Mon-el stopped, glaring at the back of Lena's head. "Bad example."

"Look, I'm sorry if I offended your delicate royal feelings," Lena said, without an ounce of contrition, “but I'm not about to sit around and wait to get married off to a man like so much chattel. If you want to help, feel free. If not, stay the hell out of my way."

Mon-el scoffed, peering over her shoulder once more. Lena paused, irritated by his hovering, but soon resumed without a word. Mon-el watched for several long minutes before he lost patience.

"Here, let me try." He crouched, reaching for the metal flower stem and bumping Lena with his hip to encourage her to give him room. Instead of obliging him, Lena tightened her grip on the makeshift lockpick and refused to budge.

"What part of ‘stay out of my way’ was unclear?" Her voice stayed low, a warning in itself that Mon-el swiftly ignored, reaching again for the stem.

"You're taking too long," he told her.

"And you think that _you--_ who has just stated he's never even thought about how locks work-- can do it better?"

"Yes!"

Lena rolled her eyes. "It’s good to know the male ego is a universal constant," she muttered. She elbowed him out of the way. "If you want to make yourself useful, start thinking of ways to convince your mother that marrying us off is a bad idea."

With that, she turned her entire focus to the lock. In that moment, Mon-el saw what attracted Rhea to Lena. He saw his mother’s sharpest qualities reflected in those pale features. The cold dismissal, the assumption he knew less than she did, and the innate confidence that her words would be obeyed-- like Rhea, Lena was accustomed to getting what she wanted. He frowned, straightening to his full height. When Lena didn’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction, he stalked off, choosing to instead glare out the window at the chaos unfolding below.

His pride stung, and the likeness between mother and soon-to-be daughter-in-law reawakened the inadequacy instilled by Rhea’s words. Still, Mon-el knew that no matter how alike they were, no matter how much Rhea wished Lena had been born her heir instead of him, his mother had overlooked one key fact: Lena was human. And right now, Lena Luthor was an _angry_ human with nothing to do but plot her escape. Mon-el may have entered this room having accepted that the wedding would happen, but Lena didn’t share his deference for the queen.

Heaving a deep sigh, Mon-el released the resentment he felt for Lena. She hadn’t asked for his mother’s attentions, clearly had no interest in the throne. She just wanted to go home. When he turned back to watch Lena work, it was without the eagle-eyed glare of a man desperate to prove himself. He padded back towards her, then sat. He leaned back against the wall. He could still see Lena working, but now he was looking at her, not her hands. The change seemed to make Lena more comfortable, because when he didn’t say anything, she started to relax.

“How long?” Lena asked. Her fingers continued to carefully maneuver the wire stem inside the lock’s guts but her eyes lifted to him, noticeably softer than when she’d looked away.

“Since the portal opened?” Mon-el clarified. She nodded. “Two days.”

Her brow furrowed ever so slightly, and Mon-el realized that Lena may have only just woken up. He’d thought that Rhea’s long wait to see him was a punishment for choosing Kara the last time he’d been on the ship. But what if she’d been here, watching over Lena? Mon-el’s jaw tightened; he couldn’t remember the last time Rhea had watched over him so diligently. Even back on Daxam, his health had been the responsibility of the healers, not the Queen.

“How’s the head?” he asked. He tried to hide his resentment, but his words sounded petulant, even to his own ears.

Green eyes flickered towards him before returning to the lock in front of her. She muttered something that sounded like _fine_ , and promptly resumed ignoring him. Suddenly, Mon-el caught a flash of light at the corner of his eye, and Lena quickly withdrew the stem, eyes quickly focusing on the illuminated lock. The insides twisted and turned, its components sliding to unlock the door.

“You did it!” He sprang to his feet, grinning with excitement. Lena didn’t share his enthusiasm.

“No, I--”

The door opened, and the two guards who had escorted Mon-el from the throne room stepped inside. One spotted Lena, who rose a heartbeat too slow.

“What are you doing?” the guard demanded, taking a menacing step forward with his hand tight around his staff weapon.

Mon-el stepped forwards, lifting one hand placatingly. “Nothing, she wasn’t--”

“I was just admiring your art,” Lena said lightly, pasting an airy smile on her lips. It transformed her entire face, bringing a dazzling sparkle to her eyes. She ran her fingers appreciatively over the glass face of the lock.

“It’s remarkably similar to the work of a glass artist on my own planet. It’s amazing that two people separated by galaxies could produce pieces of art so alike, isn’t it! The placement is odd, though-- it sits very low on the wall. Does the height have any sort of cultural significance--?”

“Be quiet!” the guard barked. Despite his annoyance, his posture relaxed-- Lena’s ruse had worked. Mon-el glanced at Lena, neither one of them daring to speak again until the guard took half a step back, gesturing towards the open door. “The queen wishes to speak with you.”

“Which--”

“Both of you,” the guard interrupted Mon-el sharply, seemingly having used all his patience on Lena’s apparent idiocy. “Now.”

Mon-el obligingly stepped forward. He filed out into the corridor, pausing only when the guard growled again. “I said _both_ of you.”

Mon-el turned to find Lena hadn’t budged. She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, no, I got that. I was just wondering if her majesty had deigned to send shoes. Her floors are cold.”

Scanning the floor around the end of the bed, where the servants always left slippers or boots, Mon-el found nothing. It was unlike the servants to commit such an oversight-- which suggested to Mon-el that it was another of Rhea’s games. The guard didn’t care. “Start moving.”

Lena’s lips turned down in an unhappy scowl, but preceded the guard towards the corridor without another word. As she passed, the guard gave her a firm shove, propelling her faster out the door.

“Don’t touch me,” Lena growled, pegging the guard with a sharp glare. Mon-el quickly moved between them, extending one arm towards the guard to keep him from retaliating further.

“It’s okay,” he announced to both of them. “No need to escalate. We’re coming, aren't we, Lena?”

The guard glared at him, but kept his hands to himself. The guard ahead began moving down the hall leading them back towards the throne room. Mon-el tried to catch Lena’s eye, but she ignored him. After a moment, he silently turned and led the way after the guard, feeling for all the world like a man walking towards his doom.


	4. Chapter 4

Lena trembled with rage as the guards marched them back to their prison. When the open door of the chamber came into sight, a vise clamped tightly around her chest. Suddenly, every breath felt like glass shards stabbing at her ribs, and her muscles locked, making her stumble. The guard behind her grabbed her by the arm, ostensibly to steady her, but he didn't release her until he’d pushed her across the threshold into the room.

“Wait!” Lena spun to call after him, but the door slid shut with a hiss, sealing both her and Mon-el inside. The vise tightened, strangling the remaining protests bubbling against the lump in her throat. Panic narrowed her vision, and she stood there, hands pushing into her hair as she struggled to keep her composure. Mon-el paced behind her, an ever-present reminder that she _could not lose it._

Her eyes burned with tears that she refused to let fall, and she kept her breaths shallow until she could be sure that her next full breath wouldn’t emerge as a gasp or a sob. She didn’t hear Mon-el calling her attention until his hands spun her by the shoulders to face him. Before she could respond he grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her hands away from her face, drawing her focus to him and him alone.

“Lena!” he shouted, his grip tight. “Are you even listening to me?”

Lena blinked, and the panic receded, yielding to the anger that had started to simmer the moment she left this room without shoes. Lena froze, her gaze dropping to the grip stilling her hands, her anger and fear coalescing into a single ball of icy fury. She bared her teeth and channeled all of her ire into a single, withering glare.

"Let _. Go.”_

Mon-el released her as though burned. As soon as she was loose Lena shoved past him, ignoring the shocked stare that followed her. She stormed to the window, staring out at the blanket of city below as she struggled to keep her hands from trembling. Mon-el took a few steps towards her, but stopped short, uncertain.

“I’m sorry,” he said, hesitantly. “My mother--”

“Don’t apologize for your mother,” Lena demanded. “Apologize for yourself!”

“I don’t know what you’re--” But Lena could hear the uncertainty in his voice, the dark shadow of self-reproach. He knew exactly what she meant.

“You just stood there!” she accused. The second Rhea started talking, Mon-el had clammed up. He hadn't made another sound until it came time to capitulate to his mother’s demands. Even then, Rhea barely spared him a glance-- when she demanded cooperation, the queen only had eyes for Lena.

A chill ran down Lena’s spine at the memory of the queen’s cold, expectant gaze. A children's hospital... she’d threatened a _children's hospital_. How could she have ever believed Rhea to be a kind woman? Because she had told Lena what she so desperately wanted to hear, Lena acknowledged bitterly. Rhea had played her like a fiddle, right from the start.

“What was I supposed to do?” Mon-el demanded, closing the distance between them with short, furious strides until he came even with Lena. His arms gesticulated wildly towards the window and the city below. “She was going to blow up a hospital!”

"A threat made for _my_ benefit!" Lena shouted back. "She expected me to protest, but _you!_ You weren't even a consideration! She didn't expect any resistance from you, and you just proved her right."

She scoffed, turning back towards the window. Mon-el’s reflection grew in the window over her shoulder as he moved closer. With his features darkened by anger, he looked more like his mother than Lena first realized.

“I tried, okay?! I told her that we weren’t going to--”

Lena met his gaze in the window reflection, treating him to a signature Luthor sneer. “No, what you _said_ was that you were ‘insane for even trying to get through to her’. You gave her an out! You told her you didn’t expect her to listen, so why would she?! Rhea took your ‘protest’ as seriously as you did. Which is why…”

Which was why Rhea had calmly explained what would happen-- that they would marry, and that they’d provide an heir, whether they wanted to or not. The only part Lena had any control over was how many people would die in the meantime.

Unable to look at her ravaged city any longer, Lena turned away from the window. Mon-el hastily stepped out of her way, and she sat heavily on the bed.

"You're a coward,” Lena muttered, “just like she is."

From the corner of her eye she saw Mon-el’s chin lift, undoubtedly watching her reflection in turn. He said nothing, and silence filled the large, alien room. In the quiet, Lena’s fight quickly bled from her, leaving her cold and feeling very small. The mattress dipped beside her when Mon-el joined her on the bed. Lena childishly scooted away from him, putting more mattress between them. Her anger and resentment for Rhea extended to him, and his presence now only seemed to emphasize how alone she was.

"You're right," Mon-el said quietly. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and folding his hands in front of him. Lena watched him carefully, but he didn’t make a move towards her.

"I am a coward,” he continued. “On Daxam, I never knew anything different. I did what I was told, even when the planet was burning and my people begged me to help them."

Lena stared at her lap. She scraped the edge of her fingernail across the cuticle of her thumb. Her skin caught on where the clear enamel of her polish had chipped. She didn't say a word, and Mon-el took advantage of the quiet to keep talking.

"When I arrived on this planet I was alone, and scared," he confessed, "but then I met Supergirl. She was everything I wasn’t. I watched her fight for people who weren’t even bound to her by blood or birth. They just needed help. At first, I didn’t see the value in that; I looked down on her for it. But when I saw how the people looked to her, how many lives she changed for the better, something clicked. I vowed to be like her, and for a while I thought I was.”

Mon-el shrugged, pushing himself upright. He waved vaguely at the room around them. “And then my mother shows up,” he drawled, the picture of self-deprecation, “and suddenly I'm just as I always was. I never really changed at all."

Lena swallowed against the sudden, painful lump in her throat. She pressed her lips together, determined not to let Mon-el know how often she’d feared the same thing-- that nothing she’d done since moving to National City had changed a thing in who she was or what the world thought of her. That deep down, if given half a chance, she’d be the same kind of Luthor everyone expected her to be. Especially now, with the realization that even with the best of intentions, she’d managed to single-handedly start an alien invasion.

Finally, Lena turned her chin, giving Mon-el a long look. His features were heavy with disappointment, head bowed in shame. He leaned forward on his elbows again, defeat lining every inch of him.

"It’s not that simple,” Lena told him. Her voice emerged thick and gravelly, but steady. “The person you were on Daxam will never go away. There's no single moment that cures us of our shortcomings.”

Mon-el surreptitiously wiped at his nose, lifting his gaze to meet hers.

"Do you really think what Supergirl does is some kind of intrinsic part of her?" Lena asked. Mon-el’s eyebrows hitched upwards, and he pegged her with an incredulous stare. Lena tilted her head in acknowledgement. "Okay, maybe for her it is," she allowed. "But for people like us, who are trying overcome a lifetime of conditioned apathy? Who have to fight instincts taught to us by parents who hate? It’s never that simple. It’s a _choice_ , every single time.”

"You sound like you know from experience," Mon-el said in a low voice, rubbing his hands together uncomfortably.

“My family has done horrible things.” For so long Lena had done everything she could to divorce herself from that legacy. And now… now so many more deaths could be added to Luthor tally, thanks to her and her self-righteous good intentions. “I make every decision with the goal of being a better person. A better Luthor.”

Lena lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, swallowing against the burn in her throat. “I have to believe,” she continued, “that even when we make the wrong choice, it doesn’t mean we can’t still be better. It doesn’t wash away the choices we’ve made up until that point, good or bad. There’s always the next choice to do better, and the next one, and the next.”

Lena doubted it was what Mon-el wanted to hear. It certainly didn’t sound like a pep talk to her. Right now, the never-ending quest to be that golden standard of good among Luthors sounded exhausting, not hopeful.

"You really think she'll listen to me?" Mon-el asked warily. He lifted his head, finally meeting Lena’s gaze. Lena hesitated; Mon-el seemed to think she knew his mother better than he, despite the fact she clearly didn’t know enough to anticipate an invasion.

“You have to try,” she said finally. "If you really want to be better than you were, you have to expect more from her, too. Of yourself. And if she’s going to listen to anyone, it’ll be you.”

For a long moment Mon-el said nothing. When Lena eventually looked up, he smiled at her. “Kara was right about you.”

The mention of her best friend poured ice down Lena’s spine. She rose sharply to her feet, alarm making her stiff. “How-- how do you know Kara??”

"What?" Mon-el’s eyes widened comically, his question clearly an attempt to deflect. Lena's fingers curled into fists.

" _How do you know Kara Danvers?_ " Lena demanded. His eyes dipped to her tight fists. "If you've done anything to hurt her--"

Not Kara, she begged of any god listening. Please let Kara be okay. Mon-el shook his head. "Wait-- what? No, no no no, she's my-- we're-- I'm Mike! Of the interns! I'm Kara's boyfriend!"

Lena started to shake her head, but then froze. If she squinted, added a bow tie and a pair of glasses, Lena could almost see the goofy, slightly-off boyfriend who’d waved a Red Vine in her face at CatCo.

“Mike… of the Interns.” She swallowed nervously, trying to keep her temper under control. “And Kara… Kara knows?”

“That I’m an alien, or that my mother is a homicidal maniac?” Mon-el quipped with a wry grin. Lena didn’t laugh. His features quickly cooled back into solemn resignation. “Yes. On both counts.”

Lena had no way to know if he was telling the truth. Ultimately, she nodded, choosing to accepting he was being honest. He had no reason to lie at this point, and frankly the mention of Kara stabbed deep into her chest. A fresh pang of worry joined the torrent of guilt and uncertainty consuming her. Of all the lives at stake-- she selfishly hoped Kara made it. After a long moment, Lena reclaimed her seat next to Mon-el. This time, her movements were stiff not with anger, but tight, anxious worry as her worst fear clawed at her, promising that somewhere far below her, Kara's body lay broken and empty in the street.

“I hope Kara's okay,” she said softly.

Mon-el relaxed, sensing the the tension in her frame was no longer a result of his proximity. He nodded, throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly. “Me too.”


	5. Chapter 5

Mon-el knew his mother well enough to know that seeking her out too quickly after her grand posturing in the throne room wouldn't yield anything in his favor. So he waited one hour, then two, trying desperately not to think of how worried Kara must be about him. How worried she must be about him and Lena both. He glanced at Lena, who stood silently at the window, staring at the city below. 

Her words echoed in his ears, about choices and the hard work that went into being "good". He finally understood how Kara could be so adamant about Lena's innocence, when Lillian escaped prison and the incriminating video footage led to Lena's arrest. Even Mon-el could sense Lena’s desire to be different from her family, and Kara, who saw the best in everyone, would have seen it a mile away.

As much as he hated to admit it, Rhea was right. Lena would make a good queen. She had the composure, the compassion, and the patience for it. With Lena at his side, maybe Mon-el could have enacted the changes he'd suggested to his father. Had their circumstances been different, if Lena and he were betrothed without the invasion or abductions--he would have been a very lucky prince.

Finally, Mon-el rose, ignoring the heavy weight of apprehension that settled in his stomach. Lena turned her gaze towards him, expression unreadable. "I'm going to try," he told her. She gave a short nod, features grim. He smoothed his tunic nervously. "Wish me luck."

He pounded on the door. There was no response. "I wish to speak with the queen!" he called. Finally, the door slid open, and the guards stepped forward with weapons at the ready, clearly anticipating a trick. Now that Mon-el thought about it, a trick probably would have been the better idea.

They marched him through the ship, not to the throne room, but to his mother's private chambers. His escort spoke quietly to the guards posted outside her door, and after a moment, Rhea called for them to enter. His mother sat at her desk when they stepped inside, keying off a communicator before turning to meet them. Rhea’s gaze warmed at the sight of him. She rose to greet him, her face a mask of smiles.

"Mon-el." His name dripped from her tongue, affectionate and derisive all at once. "I was just confirming the arrival of the court. You will have full attendance for your marriage; everyone is thrilled to finally see their prince bound in matrimony."

Mon-el cleared his throat uncomfortably. "That's actually what I came to discuss, mother."

The queen sighed. "This again. There will be no more talk of cancelling the wedding."

"I don't come for myself, but for Lena." That got Rhea’s attention. She turned to face him once more, a glimmer of intrigue softening her gaze. "She's frightened, Mother, and for good reason. She's not of Daxam. She doesn't know our ways. To expect her to meet and marry a stranger--one of the strangers invading her homeworld, no less-- is unconscionable."

Rhea regarded him solemnly. She didn't say a word, and Mon-el couldn't tell if he was getting through to her, or if she was on the verge of lashing out. He pushed forward regardless.

"Name any Daxam woman you wish and I will marry her tonight, without question," he vowed. "Just let Lena return to her people. Please."

A long, tense moment passed, and Mon-el waited on pins and needles for her decision. Finally, she smiled broadly and enfolded him in her arms.

"I am so proud of you, my son," she told him softly. "To sacrifice your happiness for the sake of your people is a virtue of true leadership.” When she pulled back, Rhea searched his eyes, her smile never dimming. She patted his cheek. "Perhaps you will make a worthy mate for Lena after all."

Mon-el froze, cold anger washing over him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, my son, that our culture has stagnated for too long. For generations, Daxam’s worth has relied on the raw gems mined from the planet itself. We created nothing of our own, developed nothing of significance to offer the galaxy. When we lost Daxam, we had nothing to offer the galaxy. For years, we have scavenged, surviving on the charity of others, and auctioning our armies to the highest bidder. Had we the scholars and scientists of Krypton, planets would have begged us to call their worlds home."

Mon-el shook his head. "That doesn’t make what you’re doing here right,” he told her. "You can work with them, Mother, help them reach their potential as their partners, not their conquerors!"

" _Lena_ ," Rhea continued, as though he hadn't spoken, "will be the start of Daxam's future. She created the portal from nothing, using incomplete designs. Her intelligence is light-years beyond what Earth is ready for... using the knowledge we collected in our search for you, she can deliver our people into the next golden age."

"With the people of Earth as your slaves?" Mon-el demanded. "She will never stand for that! Lena Luthor is smart, but she is also cunning. If you underestimate her, you will doom our people, not save them."

Rhea waved his words aside. "There will be a period of adjustment," she allowed, "but she will come to see things my way. There are plenty of hospitals to target, and once we take some of her people into our household staff, she will feel more at home. And if she does not..." Rhea shrugged, her expression going cold, "then her child will."

Their child. Mon-el had almost forgotten. Now it sent a shiver down his spine. When Rhea first confirmed her intent to create an heir, he assumed it was a ploy to cement Lena’s claim on the throne. He couldn’t have been more wrong. The child was Rhea’s failsafe-- if Lena refused to cooperate with whatever Rhea had planned, the threat was clear. She would not outlive her usefulness, and the child created from their genetic material would serve as her replacement: equally intelligent, loyal only to Daxam, and to Rhea.

"I won't let you do this," Mon-el warned her. Even as he said it, his resolve faltered. The wedding, as barbaric as it seemed, was the first key to Lena's survival. The marriage was meant to legitimize the child, Rhea's true goal. If Lena continued to refuse, her punishment may start with further imprisonment, but it wouldn't end there.

Rhea sensed his hesitation, and smiled. Before she could respond further, a servant entered bowing deeply. "My queen. You wished to know as soon as the royal wardrobe was prepared for this evening's ceremony."

"Yes," Rhea confirmed. "I trust the appropriate garments have been delivered to the prince and princess?"

"They shall be arriving shortly, your majesty."

Rhea waved him away, and the man bowed once more, backing out of the room. She then turned her gaze back to Mon-el.  

"You may not yet love Lena as you do the Kryptonian girl, but I know you don't wish to see her harmed. If you want to protect her, help her to realize that helping Daxam is in her best interest, and that of her people." Rhea returned to her desk, finished with him. "I will allow you a few moments with Lena to speak with her before you are separated to begin preparing for this evening. I trust you will do the right thing. For Lena, and for Daxam."

At the queen's signal, the guards grabbed him roughly by the arms, and frog-marched him back to Lena's chambers. They shoved him roughly inside, and the door locked quickly behind him. Lena came to him in an instant, her features heavy with disappointment, though a faint glimmer of hope still burned behind her eyes.

"It doesn't look like that went well?" She meant it as a joke, but her voice lifted in question, as though begging him to tell her she was wrong.

Mon-el shook his head. He hated the way her eyes dimmed-- hated that Lena had somehow had faith his mother would do the right thing, and that he hadn't. He hated that she'd been proven wrong, and that the woman she'd trusted so easily on Earth now casually discussed her life as though it were fodder.

Lena shrugged, shaking off the setback. "We'll think of something else."

The door slid open, revealing a cadre of servants and the usual guards. In their arms the servants bore a long red dress, while another carried a wire bodice-- the height of Daxamite fashion. Lena took one look at the bodice and shook her head.

"I am not wearing that," she declared, backing away from the encroaching attendants. They passed her without so much as a glance, carefully fanning the gown across the end of the bed. The red fabric was striking against the white bedcovers; it was beautiful. One of the older servants turned and dipped into a simple curtsy, finally addressing Lena.

"The queen left strict instructions--"

"The queen is welcome to do her own dirty work, if she thinks she can get me in that monstrosity!" Mon-el watched her gaze travel to the door, weighing her odds of escape. Panic seized him, and he quickly turned into her, grasping her hands tightly.

"Don't," he urged. His mother's threat pounded against him, alarm tightening his grip on her. Lena glared at him, but Mon-el refused to back down. "This is not the battle to fight. If you refuse to dress, the slaves will be the ones punished."

Lena jerked, her eyes widening. She hadn’t known Daxam used slavery. Her expression softened, clearly not wanting to be the cause of their suffering, but still she shook her head, this time more desperately. "That’s exactly what she wants from us, Mon-el. We can't just give in! We have to fight--"

"No!" Mon-el interjected. "No, we don't."

Lena blinked, and then the softness in her features evaporated. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and then hardened with betrayal. “No.”

“Lena…”

“This is what you’re choosing?” she asked, her voice sharp as knives.

“I am a Prince of Daxam,” Mon-el told her. “I don’t want to marry you, but I will do what must be done to stop the bloodshed, and bring our two peoples together.”

"I can see you tried real hard to convince her, your lordship,” Lena snarled, mocking his title. “What did she promise this time? An extra pillow in your prison cell the next time you speak against her? Or is that the point? You’re going to follow her orders verbatim once you wear the crown? Some king you’ll make!”

Mon-el’s stomach clenched, feeling every angry word like a physical blow. His jaw tightened, fighting against the urge to tell her the truth. He'd been wrong before: Lena didn't remind him of his mother-- she reminded him of Supergirl. Stubborn, righteous, good Supergirl who, if she knew her life was in the balance, would only fight harder.

"Prince Mon-el," a guard called to him. "It is time to part."

"Just a moment," he called. He turned back to Lena, gripping her arms tightly. "Just stop, Lena. Stop fighting her. She’s prepared to level this city to earn your compliance. Don’t give her an excuse to lash out against your people."

"Don't touch me," Lena growled, wrenching herself out of reach. "And don’t you dare claim to care about me or my planet. You care only for yourself. Like mother, like son."

This time, the guards didn’t bother calling for him. They marched into the room and gripped his arms, physically pulling him towards the corridor.

"Lena!" Mon-el called to her, trying to keep his balance without resisting the guards’ rough treatment. Lena turned away, refusing to even look at him. In the corridor, Mon-el twisted away from the guards, and drew himself to this full height. He straightened his tunic with sharp, short tugs on the hem. "All right! I'm coming."

The door slid shut, and the last he saw of Lena were her slumped shoulders as servants converged on her. Then he was alone, convinced he’d made the wrong decision, yet again. _Like mother, like son._


	6. Chapter 6

Rhea approached Lena’s chambers with a nod to the guards standing by. They opened the door at her signal, and saluted as she entered. Inside, two servants moved efficiently about Lena, who sat utterly still in front of a mirror clad in a long, white shift. The girls worked Lena's hair into the classic bridal style, twisting her long locks into precise rosettes at the back of her head. The wedding gown lay carefully spread on the bedspread, the scarlet fabric stark against the pale bedclothes. 

Lena’s eyes met Rhea’s in the mirror, and the heavy unhappy shadows in their depths tugged at something maternal deep inside Rhea. Rhea held her gaze, until Lena broke eye contact, wincing as slim fingers tugged the last of her hair into a final twist and pinned it sharply in place.

“Leave us,” Rhea ordered. The girls immediately turned and curtsied, then exited on silent feet. The door sealed shut behind them, leaving Rhea alone with a despondent Lena, who kept her gaze stubbornly askance, refusing to meet Rhea’s eye again. When Rhea stepped up behind her, her eyes fell to her lap and remained glued to where freshly trimmed nails worried her cuticles.

With a quiet sigh, Rhea carefully began to unpin the curls so meticulously completed by the servants she’d dismissed. She smoothed each lock gently before letting it rest loose against Lena’s shoulders.

“You needn’t look so miserable, dear,” Rhea said, breaking the silence. “Many women would be consider it an honor to marry the crown prince of Daxam.”

“Then let them marry him,” Lena muttered darkly. Rhea only tutted, recognizing a childish temper when she saw it. After a moment, Lena tried a different tack. Her eyes lifted, and finally met Rhea’s in the mirror. “It won’t work.”

“What won’t?” Rhea returned lightly, humoring her.

“You say you want this marriage to bring our people together,” Lena reminded her, “but it won’t. I have no power over Earth. I’m not an elected official, I have no influence in foreign policy. Half the people in my home country would be happy to see me dead, and the other half couldn’t care less what happens to me.”

Rhea smiled. “You give yourself too little credit,” she chided.

“My brother killed over a hundred people!” Lena’s eyes flashed. Rhea felt her tense as though to stand, and let her hands rest heavily on Lena’s shoulders. Lena remained in place, whether she realized Rhea’s influence or not.

“My mother tried to murder the entire alien population in National City,” Lena continued bitterly. “My family is _hated_. And as soon as they find out L-Corp resources were used to create and power the portal that brought about an invasion, I’ll lose any personal goodwill I might have earned in the past year. A marriage between me and your son will only drive a deeper wedge between our people.”

Rhea didn’t say anything for a long moment. Her fingers resumed their work, carefully pulling pins free and releasing the rosettes, until Lena’s hair rested loose in its entirety. Rhea studied Lena’s reflection; she liked the longer style. The updo felt too much like Lena’s usual look, too businesslike to be appropriate for the impending ceremony. This was softer, and emphasized the bright intelligence in Lena’s eyes.

Of course, Rhea was well aware of the implications surrounding Lena’s family. While she’d correctly determined that Lena was different from the rest of her living relatives, Rhea had made her choice of consorts fully cognizant that the rest of the planet may not be so forgiving. The marriage would not mitigate those negative opinions. In fact, Rhea was counting on the wedding to further alienate Lena from her homeworld.

Once Lena realized she had no more home on Earth, the sooner she would accept her new life among the Daxamites. And in the meantime, Rhea could entice her with technology and new knowledge from countless worlds, accumulated during her search for Mon-el. Eventually, Lena would have no reason to return to her people, and every reason to stay. She would be Rhea’s daughter after all, in both name and affection.

“But you already knew that,” Lena finished, watching Rhea carefully in the mirror. “Didn’t you.”

Lena’s voice dropped to a solemn pitch. No more questions, no more doubts. Rhea rested her hands on Lena’s shoulders once more, meeting her heavy gaze in the mirror. “You don’t expect this ceremony to do anything but bind me to you-- and give you a hostage.”

“No, Lena…” _You beautiful, brilliant girl._ Who saw everything and then some. “No,” Rhea said more firmly. “I would never let any harm come to you.”

“I could do more for your cause on the surface,” Lena countered earnestly. She rose to her feet, and Rhea let her go, appreciating the spark in the girl’s gaze as her mind worked to find an alternative. “I could help explain your purpose here, show them how much we can learn from you and your people. If you’re looking for refuge, I could speak to my contacts in Washington. They may grant you clemency.”

Rhea only smiled. “Now you do me a disservice, Lena.” She closed the distance between them, gathering Lena’s hands in hers. “I _know_ you,” she reminded her. “You feel responsible for what happened with the portal, and ultimately your loyalty is to your people-- which I understand, and respect. But if I were to grant you access to the surface, you’d go straight to Supergirl, and _that_ , I cannot allow.”

Lena inhaled to respond, but Rhea dismissed it by shifting her gaze to the hands clasped in her fingers. She noticed the lurid bruises marked in stark relief around her wrists, and felt a shred of remorse for having lost her temper so easily. The yellow sun here was so beautiful, it made her forget the strength it granted her.

“Besides,” she continued brightly, “I couldn’t bear for you to leave my sight. I value you a great deal, Lena. One day, you’ll stop selling yourself so short, and see the powerful, amazing woman that I do.”

“You claim to value my insight, and yet you ignore my wishes,” Lena refuted, her tone sharp. “This is _my_ future at stake--”

“You are so young, Lena. Sometimes, we all need a little push. Like your move to National City; it wasn’t fully your choice, was it? Your brother’s actions forced your hand. But you found happiness there, eventually. This is no different.”

“But if you would just--”

“Enough!” Rhea snapped, pulling her hands free just as Lena’s fingers started to tighten on hers. Lena started, eyes wide at the sudden outburst. Rhea took a deep breath, quickly bringing herself back to calm. “The decision is made, Lena.”

She turned to leave, only to stop short when Lena reached out and grabbed her wrist. “Rhea, _please_. If you ever felt any affection for me at all, please don’t do this. Just let me go home. _Please_.”

Rhea gentled her features, and turned back to face her charge. Lena’s eyes sparkled with hope still, desperation and her long hair revealing her youth. Rhea let her lips curl in a smile, and leaned in to press a delicate kiss to Lena’s cheek. There she lingered, bringing her lips close to the girl’s ear.

“Another word of protest,” Rhea murmured, so gently it was nearly a whisper, “and I will level every hospital, school, and clinic in National City.”

The breath caught in Lena’s chest, and Rhea felt her entire body grow rigid in alarm. But when she withdrew, Lena’s features had smoothed into a cool mask, with only her sparkling eyes to bely her fear. Rhea smiled at the sight of it. Her fingers lifted to cup Lena’s chin, much like she had in the restaurant a week ago.

“Now, there,” she gushed, “is the face of a true queen.”

Lena didn’t say another word. When Rhea left, Lena made no move to follow. The serving girls waited patiently in the corridor, and Rhea addressed them directly when the door slid shut behind her.

“I prefer her hair long. Leave it down,” she instructed firmly. She paused. “Does her gown have sleeves?”

“Yes, my lady,” one of the girls responded, keeping her head down.

Rhea nodded. _Good._ It wouldn’t do for Daxam’s new crown princess to sport bruised wrists on her wedding night. “Be swift finishing her preparation,” she ordered. “The ceremony begins at sundown.”


	7. Chapter 7

Pulling the trigger was easier than Lena anticipated. The guard slumped to the ground, and Lena didn’t stop to check whether he was dead or just stunned. Her gaze met Mon-el’s briefly as he offered a reluctant thank-you. She ignored the sentiment, instead turning to head down the opposite corridor-- away from Rhea, away from the marriage, and away from Mon-el.

Her body felt like it was shaking, but her hands were steady. Lena moved with purpose slowing only when she neared the first corner, wary of what guards lay in wait beyond. She didn’t dare look back: Cat Grant’s broadcast had granted her an unanticipated opportunity, one unlikely to come again. If they caught her, she wouldn’t escape again. If they caught her, the hospital was forfeit.  If they caught her, it was all over.

Mon-el’s footsteps pounded behind her as he ran to catch up with her. "Lena!" he hissed. Lena turned as he neared, anticipating his reach to grab her-- a habit shared by both mother and son. Before he could touch her, she lifted the gun in her hand and leveled it at his chest. "Lena, wait--whoa!" 

Mon-el stared with wide eyes, lifting his hands innocently. Lena scowled. "I'm not going back.”

"What part of me attacking that guard suggested I _want_ to go back?" he demanded. Lena stared at him, unconvinced. She didn't have any trust left in her to give. Her head ached, tension now radiating down her neck and into her shoulders. She felt like she hadn’t slept in a week.

Mon-el shifted, and Lena’s focus sharpened once more. He froze. "Lena, I'm sorry. I had to convince you--”

"You never _have_ to do anything!” Lena’s voice lifted sharply, carrying down the corridor. Mon-el flinched, checking over his shoulder for guards. Lena forced herself to take a deep breath. “You made a choice!"

Mon-el expelled a sharp breath, jaw clenched tight and looking a hair away from stomping his foot like a five year old. He looked aside, hands lowering to rest on his hips as he came to a decision.

"She threatened Kara." His voice was low, even, measured. Lena’s chest seized at the sound of Kara’s name, but something dark flickered behind Mon-el's eyes as he watched her reaction. It was brief, just a hint of untruth before his expression softened into helpless worry. “What choice would you have made?”

Fresh anger sparked in the pit of Lena’s stomach, and suddenly Lena wished it was Rhea beyond the barrel of her gun, not Mon-el. But even as she wanted Rhea dead, as much as she hated the woman who had lied to her and threatened everyone Lena loved, a small flutter of relief lifted her spirits. As despicable as the threat was, it meant Kara was alive. Kara was okay.

Finally, Lena lowered the gun. "You should have told me."

"Yeah, well… I figured you had enough to worry about," Mon-el muttered. He watched her carefully, relaxing only marginally when the gun remained at her side.

“Do you know where to go?" Lena prompted.

"There's a transporter room up ahead."

Lena hesitated. The transporter would be the fastest way to get to the surface, but also the most risky. Once Rhea knew they’d escaped their escort, the transporters would be the first to lock down, and even with them active, the continued ground assault made it the most dangerous room on the ship.

Mon-el quickly came to the same conclusion. "I don't think we'll make it through.”

"Does this ship have any landing craft?" Lena asked. "Pods? Fighters?"

Mon-el paused, then grinned. "Yeah, it does." He offered his hand, indicating the opposite direction with a tilt of his head. "This way."

Lena ignored the palm he extended, unwilling to relinquish her dominant hand, currently curled around the gun, their only weapon. She brushed past him in the direction he indicated, stepping softly to keep her ears peeled for the heavy boots of approaching soldiers. When none came, they shifted into a jog. They were far from free, but Lena couldn’t help the relief she felt at being able to move again. With each uninterrupted step, a seed of hope took deeper root. It was time to go home.


	8. Chapter 8

Pulling the trigger was easier than Lena anticipated. The guard slumped to the ground, and Lena didn’t know if he was dead or simply stunned. She didn’t stop to check. Her gaze met Mon-el’s briefly as he offered a reluctant thank-you. She ignored the sentiment, instead turning to head down the opposite corridor-- away from Rhea, away from the marriage, and away from Mon-el. Her body felt like it was shaking, but her hands were steady. She moved with purpose and acute wariness, half-expecting a guard to jump out at each corner. Lena didn’t dare look back: Cat Grant’s broadcast had granted her an unanticipated opportunity, one unlikely to come again. If they caught her, she wouldn’t escape again. If they caught her, the hospital was forfeit.  Lena only hoped Rhea would be distracted enough by the broadcast that she'd forget her threat altogether.

"Lena!" Mon-el hissed. His footsteps pounded behind her as he ran after her. Lena turned before he could get close enough to grab her--a nasty habit shared by both mother and son. "Lena, wait--whoa!"

Mon-el pulled back sharply as Lena leveled her weapon at his chest. His hands lifted, and wide eyes stared at her beseechingly.

"I'm not going back," she told him. 

"What part of me attacking the guard suggests I  _ want  _ to go back?" he demanded. Lena stared at him, unconvinced. She didn't have any trust left in her to give, especially not to someone who'd actively tried to pacify her.

Mon-el sighed. "Lena, I'm sorry. I had to convince you. My mother--"

"Needed to hear that her son would fight back."

"I  _ had  _ to--"

"You never  _ have _ to do anything! You made a choice!"

"She threatened Kara, okay!" Mon-el blurted sharply. Lena’s heart lurched; something dark flickered behind his eyes, a hint of untruth. But when he met her gaze once more, his features were heavy, helpless. "What choice would you have made?"

On the heels of the anger that flared at Rhea’s threat, Lena felt a rush of relief. If she chose to believe Mon-el, and part of Lena  _ did _ believe him despite everything that’d happened, then Kara was alive. After a long moment, Lena lowered the gun. "You should have told me."

"Yeah, well… I figured you had enough to worry about," Mon-el returned blithely. He lowered his arms, though he continued to watch her carefully.

“Do you know where to go?" Lena asked sharply.

"There's a transporter room up ahead." 

Lena hesitated. The transporter would be the fastest way to get to the surface, but also the most risky. Once Rhea knew they’d escaped their escort, the transporters would be the first to lock down, and even with them active, the continued ground assault made it the most dangerous room on the ship.

Mon-el came to the same conclusion. "I don't think we'll make it through.”

"Does this ship have any landing craft?" Lena asked. "Pods? Fighters?"

Mon-el paused, then grinned. "Yeah, it does." He offered his hand, indicating the opposite direction with a tilt of his head. "This way."

Lena ignored the palm he extended, unwilling to relinquish her dominant hand, currently curled around the gun, their only weapon. She brushed past him in the direction he indicated, stepping softly to keep her ears peeled for the heavy boots of approaching soldiers. When none came, they shifted into a jog. They were far from free, but Lena couldn’t help the relief she felt at being able to move again. It was time to go home.


	9. Chapter 9

The cold realization that Lillian left Supergirl behind didn't come as a surprise. In fact, it felt to Lena like stepping back onto dry land, after seeing her mother on the Daxamite ship knocked her off-kilter. But almost as soon as she found her bearings again, the guilt settled squarely on Lena's shoulders. Lillian intended Supergirl to die up there, and if she did, Lena was responsible. Her naivety started the invasion; if Supergirl fell to Rhea, Lena's legacy as Luthor would be the loss of Earth's greatest hero.

When the device activated for a second time, hope flared bright in Lena's chest-- only to die a swift death when Mon-el appeared, alone.

"Where's Supergirl?" Lena demanded.

Mon-el barely glanced at her before reaching for the communicator her mother had dropped. Lena gaped as Mon-el told Agent Danvers what had happened. "You left her to fight an entire ship alone?!" Lena's voice carried sharply in the empty chamber when the radio went silent. "What if Rhea has kryptonite?"

Mon-el's defensive glare faltered, and Lena realized she'd hit the nail on the head. “ _And you just left her?!”_

"She told me to!"

"Of course she did! That’s who Supergirl is!"

Mon-el moved to shove past her, and without thinking Lena reached out and gripped the front of his tunic with both hands. If he shared Rhea's strength, he could pull free effortlessly, but instead Mon-el froze, head turned away to avoid her gaze.

"Who are _you,_  Mon-el?"

"It... it’s what she wanted..." His voice broke, but Lena didn’t relent, not even when she watched his eyes glisten with unshed tears.

" _We_ are responsible for our families, not Supergirl," Lena snarled. She shook her head, pushing him away in disgust. "This was the _wrong_ choice."

Mon-el flushed, his features twisting into a pitiful scowl. Lena bristled at the sight of it. She'd seen the look he and Supergirl had shared when that door opened. Whatever Mon-el claimed to have with Kara, he clearly felt just as much for Supergirl. He'd let a woman he loved face her greatest weakness alone. Hardly in keeping with a man who supposedly only bowed to his mother to protect Kara.

Taking deep, careful breaths, Lena lifted her gaze to meet Mon-el’s teary gaze. “Rhea never threatened Kara, did she?”

Mon-el’s flinch was all the confirmation Lena needed.

"You lied to me,” she surmised, “so I would trust you enough to help you off the ship.” Mon-el didn’t deny it. Lena released a short, mirthless huff of a laugh. “You are really something else."

Mon-el grabbed her elbow when she turned to leave, begging to be heard. "I did what she asked,” he said. “I listened to what she wanted. She told me to go, so I did. I wanted to help her-- I _would_ have--"

"But you didn't!" Lena threw back in his face, tugging her arm free. "You don't get to use her altruism as an excuse for your cowardice, Mon-el. You made a choice, the same one you make every single time! You say you want to change, so how about for just once you _act like it!_ "

Lena turned on her heel and stormed away from him. She didn’t know what made her more angry-- that Mon-el had duped her as efficiently as his mother, or that she'd let him. She aimed for a secluded corner to collect herself, ignoring her mother’s watchful gaze between her shoulder blades.

Her body quivered, unable to contain the tension that had been building since she woke on Rhea's ship. Her anger at Mon-el had fractured the haze that had kept her calm on the ship, and now the shake in her hands persisted. Even so, her trembling soon turned to true shivers as her body struggled to stave off the chill from the ice around her. The gown she wore did little to stop the slow creep of cold settling into her bones. Lena wrapped her arms tightly around herself. She didn't notice her mother's approach until a warm coat draped over her shoulders, startling her.

The coat smelled like her mother-- like stiff family portraits and Lionel's funeral. Lillian smoothed the epaulet's over Lena's shoulders, and Lena just stared at her mother standing in the cold now wearing nothing more than her slacks and blouse. Lillian tugged the front her coat closed around Lena, until Lena's hands woke up and took over, pulling the coat tight around herself. 

Their eyes met, and Lena's stomach turned at the uncharacteristic concern she saw looking back at her. That kind of look was always reserved for Lex; Lillian never came so close to tender with Lena, and she certainly wouldn't be doing so now if she knew what Lena had done. That Lena had been taken in by an alien, and blindly aided in bringing an invasion to Earth.

Lena's headache returned full force. She pressed her eyes shut, tilting her head as though the new angle would relieve the pounding in her skull.

"You have a headache," Lillian observed, her voice soft. Her hand pressed cupped Lena's arm, giving it a rub through the coat.

"It's nothing." Lena's terse brushoff didn't convince Lillian in the slightest. "I bumped my head," she tried again, tacking on a short shrug. She mentioned nothing of how she’d earned the injury.

Long fingers tilted Lena's chin up to so that Lillian could study her eyes. Whatever her mother saw in Lena's pupils didn't seem to give her any worry. Relief poured over Lena when Lillian's fingers dropped away-- enough people had grabbed her face in the past three days to last her a lifetime.

"Henshaw nearly has the helicopter ready for take off," Lillian told her finally. "I can examine you more thoroughly when we're back in National City."

"We _should_ be going back to Rhea’s ship," Lena countered stiffly. "Supergirl needs our help. The Daxamites have weapons that can kill her!”

"If the plan went as scheduled, the fight is already over, sweetheart." Lillian met her gaze. "We did our part. The rest is out of our hands. Either Supergirl will succeed, or Agent Danvers will."

Lena looked at her in confusion, dread pooling in her gut. "What do you mean?"

"Agent Danvers was under orders to fire the positron cannon from DEO headquarters as soon as we were off the ship. Supergirl knew this, and made the choice to stay--"

Lena scoffed. “You _left_ her there--!”

“It’s already done, Lena,” Lillian snapped. Lena jerked, her skin crawling at the tone that sounded so much like Rhea. Lillian seemed to sense her sudden discomfort, and visibly softened. “There’s nothing we can do now."

“And you’re satisfied with that? Knowing you left a good person to die?”

“You’re safe,” her mother told her. “That’s all the satisfaction I need.”

"We're ready for takeoff!" Henshaw called, his voice booming across the empty space of the chamber. Lillian nodded an acknowledgement, then turned back to Lena. Her hand found Lena's elbow through the drape of the coat.

"Let's go," she said.

Lena allowed herself to be led towards the waiting helicopter, its blades spinning lazily as it came to life. Her gaze traveled the room, taking in the structure so stark, and so foreign. Lex would give his right arm to be here. Lena was glad to leave-- it felt too much like trespassing, without Supergirl there to monitor them.

"Hey!” Mon-el called out. He stood alone near a terminal close to where the beam had deposited them upon their arrival. Lena slowed to a stop, regarding him solemnly. “What about me?”

Lillian leaned in to speak low in Lena’s ear. "He's one of _them,_  Lena. He works with the DEO. He’ll find his own way back."

Lena wanted to leave him. God help her, she wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine, and let him shiver, alone and uncertain in a foreign fortress. She could barely look at Mon-el, let alone have any desire to spend hours in a cramped helicopter cabin with him. But... if she indulged the dark little voice in her head that sounded like Lillian, like Lex, it wouldn't just be Mon-el left alone.

Lena turned her head, speaking low to her mother. "He's a friend of Kara's."

It likely meant nothing to Lillian, but to Lena it made all the difference. Lena would do what Mon-el hadn't. She wouldn't make this choice for herself, but for Kara. For Kara, she would sit with the devil himself. Lena met Mon-el's gaze, and tilted her head towards the chopper in silent invitation.

Lillian drew back in distaste, jaw tight. She said nothing further, but Lena felt her displeasure like a physical force pressing against her skin. When Mon-el approached, he paused before climbing into the small cabin. He gave Lena a solemn glance.

"Thank you."

The tone of his voice probed in search of the brief camaraderie they’d shared on his mother’s ship. Lena wasn’t interested. Her eyes narrowed, one eyebrow lifting into something just shy of a sneer.

"It was just another choice," she told him. She might come to regret this choice as she regretted trusting Rhea. But when she next saw Kara Danvers, she would do it with a clear conscience. Mon-el didn’t say another word. He climbed into the helicopter and dropped into one of the four seats inside. Lena took a deep breath before following.

Her mother’s hand touched gently against her back, steadying Lena as she climbed into the helicopter.

Lena’s body grew heavier with each passing minute as the helicopter lifted off and flew across the frozen tundra. By the time they passed over the open water, Lena’s eyes slammed. She felt numb-- she should be wary of the people around her, but she didn’t have the energy to worry about them. She didn't even have it in her to care that she was in an aircraft over the open ocean, and that a single mishap could send them plummeting into frigid waters.

She didn't notice when her eyes slipped shut. Lena woke what felt like a second later to find Lillian's hand shaking her knee, a hand retracted as soon as Lena blinked awake. To the east, Lena recognized the battered skyline of National City, with the Daxamite fleet suspended over it like a web of spiders. At their center, a ship larger than all the rest loomed ominously against the dawn.

“The cannon failed,” Lillian observed. Mon-el shifted in his seat, and Lena knew he had the same hope that stole over Lena-- that Supergirl may have survived. “We’ll have to set down outside the city.”

Henshaw put them down in a field well beyond city limits. Mon-el disappeared before the chopper even touched down, leaving the cabin door flapping in the wind as he fled into the treeline towards the city. A military truck waited for the rest of them, complete with a bored driver standing by.

Lena peeled off her borrowed coat and wordlessly handed it back to her mother before climbing into the back of the truck. They rode in complete silence towards the city, with Lena ignoring her mother’s gaze by watching the scenery pass behind them. Woods soon turned to long winding roads, then into city blocks, the damage growing more significant they closer they got to city center.

She didn’t realize she’d expected to return to L-Corp until the driver turned in the opposite direction, blocks away from the building. The unexpected turn jarred her, a sharp reminder that she was with her the head-of-Cadmus mother, and had no idea where they intended to take her.

"Stop the truck," Lena said sharply. Her mother blinked, surprised by the sudden vocalization. "I said _stop the truck!_ "

Lillian looked to Henshaw, who lumbered towards the back of the cab and thumped his fist against the side. Brakes squealed as they lost speed, then stopped altogether. Lena stood, and moved towards the back gate.

"What are you doing?" Lillian snapped, catching Lena by the arm.

Lena tore her arm free with a growl. " _Don't._ "

Lillian's head tilted dangerously, but kept her hands to herself. Lena took a deep, steadying breath. "I'm getting out."

"You're injured," her mother sternly reminded her.

Lena rolled her eyes. "I’ll get over it."

"Lena..."

"Going to whatever lair you've set up with Cadmus isn't going to help my headache, Mother," Lena snapped. Lena had no intention of being anywhere near Cadmus or her mother when the truth came out about L-Corp’s involvement with the portal.

“And where would you go instead?” Lillian demanded.

Lena gathered up her skirt and released the tailgate. "I'm going to L-Corp."

"To do what? The building will be empty."

Lena could only hope. She had a long ten block walk to L-Corp in her bullseye of a dress; she could only hope she made it to her office and the spare outfit she kept there without any of her employees seeing her.

Her descent down the ladder was less than graceful, and lacked the dignity she would have preferred when storming away from Lillian Luthor, but when she hit the ground without missing a single rung, she straightened her gown with her chin high and gestured towards the sky, where the Daxamite ships hovered.

"I'm going to do something about that."

With that, she turned and started walking. For a long moment, there wasn't a single sound from behind her, and for a second she was afraid Lillian would follow. Then, the engine turned over, then rumbled off in the opposite direction. She reached L-Corp without seeing another soul. The streets were eerily still, vacant and littered with debris.

L-Corp's glass front doors were cracked, but not shattered. She bypassed the elevators entirely, not trusting the flickering lights or the chance of hidden structural damage. The long trek up twenty flights of steps happened in spurts with more breaks to catch her breath than she cared to admit, but when she finally stumbled into the sanctuary of her office, she was relieved to find it relatively unscathed.

Lena stripped as she marched towards her en suite bathroom, starting with the cage around her chest and not stopping until her shoes were kicked aside and the gown puddled on the floor like a rag. One shower and teeth brushing later, she almost felt human again.

As her hair dried, hanging paper thin around her shoulders, Lena dressed and stepped back out into her office. Her eyes traveled the room, catching on everything and nothing at once. Her first and greatest problem was the mothership still hanging in the sky and what she should do about it, but Lena's mind remained blank. She had nothing. No ideas, no plans. Nothing but bruises on her wrists and sharp memories of Rhea's lips on her cheek, promising dark consequences in her ear. Lena's eyes caught on the bar cart against the wall. She hesitated less than a heartbeat before striding towards it, new resolve giving her steps weight.

Lena would stop Rhea if it was the last thing she did. But first, she needed a drink.


End file.
